Yes, folks, I'm at it again; welcome to my latest chapter. I'm using this one to address several points that I glossed over before, and expanding on a few things that I felt weren't adequately covered before. Hope you continue to enjoy my tale.
*****
Over the course of the next three months, Jeff continued with the physical therapy prescribed by Dr. Karlson, sneaking in extra time in the home gym whenever BJ and Missy weren't looking. He knew he'd already missed out on a few small skirmishes, but he wanted to be back up to snuff for the next serious battle.
Both of the young women knew he was doing it, of course. The new definition in his arms and legs was hard to hide, after all.
Doctor Karlson noticed, as well.
"Jeff, you've been cheating." It was a statement, not a question.
Jeff gave him an embarrassed shrug.
"I can't just sit around, Doc. I can only read the same book, watch the same movie, the same concert, so many times. When I'm bored, I hit the machines, try to get some extra time in. It's either that or cook, and I don't want my girl to see me getting fat, do I?"
"I suppose not. What's your diet look like these days?"
"Oh, the usual... cheeseburgers, pizza, lots of noodles... "
The doctor grinned. "No wonder you're worried about getting fat. Are you getting anything in the way of vegetables?"
"Some, yeah... BJ makes sure of that,... and I drink a lot of juice."
"Well, that's something, anyway. I hope you cut down on smoking a bit."
"Just a couple of joints a day... it helps with the soreness after a workout. Helps me sleep, too."
"Ok, well... most of your wounds are healed up nicely, and those that haven't are well on the way. I'll inform the Colonel that you're ok for light duty. You can go back to a regular schedule at the target range, too. Just don't overdo it. How many miles are you doing on that elliptical thingamabob?"
"I don't know... there's no guage on it."
"Well, guess."
"Ummm... I don't know, maybe four or five at a time."
Karlson gave him a skeptical look... "Ok,... how many times a day?"
Jeff flushed a bit. "Five or six."
"Uh huh... or eight or ten, by the look of it. I want you to cut back on the breads and noodles a bit, get more in the way of protiens. More meats, fish, roasted or baked, not fried. Get some good venison and some of the buffalo beef... better for you than regular cow. What about this pizza? Mama's? "
"No, I make it myself. BJ found a recipe for 'Chicago style' with the toppings in the middle, crust on the top and bottom, both; kinda like a big sandwich. I make it with that sausage that Ronald's butcher shop makes, mushrooms, chopped onions, and banana peppers, lots of garlic, and three kinds of cheese. Provolone and parmesan in the middle, mozzarela in the edges of the crust."
"Damn! Next time you make that, call me! That sounds good!"
Jeff returned his grin. "Drop by this afternoon... I've got a half a pie in the fridge. It's just as good fresh from the microwave."
"You're on."
Jim and Jan awoke to find some of the lights working in the office of the small research base; this was a good thing, as now, perhaps, the elevators would work, as well.
The door opened, and Lieutenant Pete Grover poked his head in.
"Colonel, Ma'am, we've gotten one of the Geothermal generators back online. We're cooking breakfast in the conference room on this floor, should be ready in about ten minutes. Coffee is ready now, and the rest of the supplies have been brought in from topside."
Jim thanked the younger man, choosing to ignore the furtive looks the boy had given to his wife's semi nude form. Hell, he'd been young once. Jan had stripped down to bra and panties before laying down with him, and he knew that she'd attract attention from a younger man... she had, after all, never failed to catch his eye.
The two of them dressed and set off in search of the conference room, following the smell of fresh coffee and warmed muffins, settling into seats there and enjoying a prolonged breakfast while discussing their plans for the day. Jim idly mentioned his dream of the night before, of an office on level five, and a safe there that they might want to have a look in.
His wife had a rather strange reaction... "I had that kind of dream, too... only it was level three. A hidden door, and a bunch of computers, labeled as a control room."
"Which one do you want to check out first?"
"I don't know... you said yours had a safe?"
He nodded. "I even remember the combination."
"Ok, let's go there first. I want to see what's in that safe... if it's really there."
Five minutes later, they were in the office, and Jim walked up to the painting, which matched his dream image perfectly, took it down... and it was there, exactly as it had been in his dream.
He tried the combination, half expecting it not to work. With a 'click', the lock disengaged, and he turned the handle, and the door swung open.
The only difference from his dream was the.44 magnum revolver laying on top of the notebooks, with three boxes of ammunition beside it. He took that out, checking it... fully loaded, with an extra hundred and fifty rounds. He stuck it in his pocket, then passed the notebooks to his wife.
John Davidson sat back and relaxed for the first time in several days. He was just back to the Militia base after an extended run to the southeast, and it would be nice to get a solid night of sleep without some raider crew trying to steal his horses and wagon. He and his crew had mapped three small towns, one of which had thought he was leading a new kind of bandit gang and had kept him under guard until they'd looked in the various boxes in the wagon... and even then, he'd sensed eyes following him and his two guards as they dickered over the goods he carried. Finally, though, the amount of goods he was carrying convinced them of his sincerity, and he and his men were welcomed, albeit grudgingly.
When they saw the things he had to trade, they really opened up. Two crossbows and sixty quarrels for them, along with five boxes of candles and four big bottles of aged whiskey netted him several dozen still-sealed cans of pre-war coffee and three boxes of good, well seasoned firewood, along with a couple of dozen fresh tanned rabbit furs. He didn't want to look too easy, so he'd held out for a dozen fresh-baked corn muffins and a big blueberry pie to go along with it, and dinner for himself and his crew.
While he was there, he settled in the common hall for a bit, drinking small glasses of home made wine with some of the locals and gathering rumors of the local landscape. Over the course of the evening, he learned that there were two other villages nearby; one was in the ruins of a small suburb, while another was hidden in a pre-war factory of some sort. He tried to keep his face neutral as he gently prodded for more information on that one. He was polite about it, and discreet, and those who figured out what he was doing thought he was just looking for future business opportunities.
As the sun started to set, he and his two men, who were getting ready to set up their tents, were approached by a small group of couples... men with their wives and mates in tow... or so they thought.
One man, who they took to be some sort of village elder, stepped forward.
"Gentlemen, we're hoping you'll do us one more favor tonight."
John lifted an eyebrow... he thought he knew what was coming next.
"We're a pretty close community. A little too close, if you know what I mean."